Fred Fenton on the Track; Or, The Athletes of Riverport School

by Allen Chapman

"And Fred, when you come back, go straight home without showing up here. I'll let it be known that by my orders you didn't start in the regular run, for reasons that were sufficient for the committee to give the order; and that you went off on a little turn of your own."

"Say, I can see the face of the fellow who comes in ahead, and learns that nothing's been seen of Fred Fenton," remarked Dick, with a wide smile. "Won't he be just patting himself on the back as a world-beater though, up to the time he learns Fred never started at all!"

With the crack of the pistol the long line of young athletes surged forward, amid loud cries from the crowd that had gathered to witness the start. Many eyed Fred hopefully; for the word had gone around that upon him Riverport must depend to wrest victory from the grasp of that tall runner, Boggs, who was said to be a tremendous "stayer," and as speedy almost as Colon himself.

Fred was following out his little scheme for vanishing. He struck the edge of the bush patch, and was on the extreme end of the line, so that he believed he could drop out of the race, and no one be the wiser. By the time the runners reached the road over which they were to go for two and a half miles, they would be so far away from the crowd that no one could be certain which runner might be Fred, and whether he was pace-maker to the squad or not.

It all worked like a charm too. Fred watched his chance, and falling back, so that he had nobody behind him, suddenly dropped down flat. Shortly after, he started to crawl to one side. Here he was able to take advantage of some trees; and one way or another managed to get out of range of the vision of those on the field.

After that, chuckling at the success of his little plan, Fred started for the place which was to be the beginning of his five mile run. It was some distance from the athletic field; and would take him in an entirely different direction from that covered by the balance of the contestants.

It surely did take him over peculiar territory. Now he was following a fair kind of a country road; presently he cut across a stretch of woodland, jumping fallen trees, and vaulting stone fences with all the vigor of healthy youth.

Two miles, and Fred felt satisfied that he was doing uncommonly well. He believed that his muscles had never before responded so splendidly to his demands. When he reached that two mile mark, made by himself when he used to modestly practice in private, not wishing to be watched, because he was not known as a runner in those days, Fred believed he had his best time shortened more than a few seconds. And that over rough ground, such as he would find in no part of the regular race.

Now he had reached the worst part of all, and which he wished he were well over with. This was an old limestone quarry, that had not been worked for years. There were pits scattered here and there, some of them partly concealed by the friendly bushes that grew here and there to the edge.

Fred knew he must be careful until he had placed this region behind. Once before he had come close to slipping down into one of those deep holes, from which he understood the limestone had been taken, as it was found in spots. He did not want to be caught napping a second time.